Kiss Me If You Can Read online

  To add insult to injury, the blog was published by his own damn newspaper! Upon discovering that he was the anonymous writer’s newest victim, Coop had pleaded with the publisher of the paper to hold the presses. But nobody, not even their top crime beat reporter, could prevent the moneymaking machine that was the Bachelor Blog.

  This was either retribution for something he’d done in a former life or proof of the old adage that no good deed goes unpunished. Either way, it was humiliating.

  He’d had to instruct Chris Markov, the security guard in his building, to turn away any female without an appointment; he could no longer walk to work, as a few intrepid women had figured out where he lived and camped out on the doorstep like paparazzi hounding Britney Spears; and in this beautiful midsummer weather, he’d been forced to hire a cabbie to pick him up out back and drive him home. Which reminded him: he hoped Charlie was waiting at the corner when he finished here.

  Coop tossed the last of the letters away. Bunches of flowers and boxes of candy came next. The wrapped stuff he’d sent over to local hospitals. If women were crazy enough to send him gifts, thinking he’d be interested in a desperate stranger, he wasn’t about to taste-test anything they’d sent over unwrapped. His mother, may she rest in peace, had taught him well.

  As he reached into the box for the last of the contents, his hand came into contact with soft cotton. He pulled the item out and, as he’d done when he’d opened the original packaging, Coop stared in disbelief at the ladies’ thong underwear. At least a tag dangled off the back. This particular gift, he’d been too freaked out to worry about donating and had added to the trash immediately.

  “Those are kind of cute. Maybe I could check the size before you throw them away?”

  Coop froze at the sound of an unfamiliar female voice.

  “I’m kidding. Can you get rid of those things before I introduce myself? The whole notion of Bachelor Blog and desperate, scheming women is giving me hives.”

  Coop caught the hint of amusement in the voice.

  He tossed the panties back in the box and heaved his lightened load into the trash before turning to the woman who had intruded on his mission. She didn’t look like any of the blond or brunette bomb-shells who’d included photos in their letters—the few he’d peeked at before a naked one taught him his lesson.

  Instead, he found himself facing a striking brunette with straight hair parted to one side and bluntly cut to her shoulders. Long, wispy strands framed a pretty face, partially hidden by funky black-framed glasses. Still, he detected high cheekbones and his gaze was drawn to her full, sexy lips. Besides her lush mouth, her eyes were her most outstanding feature, even behind the clear lenses. Her irises were wide and dark, color to be determined, thanks to the fading light.

  The glasses lent an aura of intelligence to her otherwise seductive features. She presented a puzzle he wanted to take apart and put back together with a deeper understanding.

  But just because he was attracted to her didn’t mean she wasn’t one of his stalkers. “Okay, I’ve lightened my load. So who are you and what are you doing back here?” he asked warily.

  She flashed him a bright smile and he added nice teeth to her attributes. “I’m waiting for you,” she said.

  An unreasonable sense of disappointment filled him at her reply. “Well, I’m not interested.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he turned for the alley exit.

  “How do you know when you haven’t even heard what I have to say?” she called to him.

  Despite himself, he paused midstride and turned. “Because you’re female, you waited for me out back and you admitted that you’re interested!”

  “Not in you!” she corrected, sounding appalled at the notion, bruising Coop’s ego in the process.

  What was wrong with him, he wondered.

  “I’m interested in your ring!” She lifted her hand to illustrate her point, showing him a flash of multiple rings on her fingers.

  “You and every other husband-seeking female in the city,” he muttered, even as he pondered where she’d put an engagement ring among the vast assortment of other jewelry she wore.

  She pursed those seductive lips together and frowned. “Not in that way!” She dug into an oversize bag that hung from her shoulder and pulled out a photo. “Look. This is my grandmother and she’s wearing a necklace that looks like a match to the ring I saw you accept on TV.”

  Surprised by her explanation, Coop took the photo, but the waning daylight didn’t provide enough light for him to get a good look. “It’s too dark to see,” he said, handing the picture back to her.

  “Well, trust me. It looks like a match.”

  He already knew the ring had once been part of a set. Was her grandmother really in possession of the matching necklace or was the story just a ruse to get closer to him?

  Coop’s reporter’s instincts told him she was sincere in her quest. And he had to admit that she wasn’t acting like a woman who was interested in the city’s newest bachelor.

  Her admitted lack of interest bugged him. Especially since he was curious about her—and not just because of her supposed connection to his ring, which he had tucked deep into his front pants’ pocket.

  But he wasn’t about to show her the ring until he knew more of her story. “Where did your grandmother get the necklace?” he asked, wondering if she’d come into possession of the item second- or thirdhand after it had been stolen.

  “Look, do you think we could have this conversation somewhere else? Anywhere else would work for me. The stench of garbage is killing me.” She waved her hand in front of her face, crinkling her nose.

  Coop shook his head and grinned. “Smart as well as beautiful.”

  Behind her lenses, her eyes opened wide.

  “Tell you what. I need to go home and shower. I can’t tell you how many of the letters I just junked were covered in perfume. Would you want to meet up with me for a drink?” He invited her on a whim, but as he waited for an answer, his heart began pounding harder inside his chest.

  She tipped her head to one side. “You’ll bring the ring?”

  He nodded. “You’ll bring the photo?”

  “Of course.”

  “Got a pen?” he asked, attempting nonchalance when in reality he was pumped at the notion of seeing her again.

  She dug into her oversize purse and handed him something to write with. “Here. Use this.” She turned over the back of the photo.

  “How’s eight o’clock?” he asked.

  “Works for me.”

  He jotted down the name of his father’s bar and grill, a place his old man had opened after retirement. Cops hung out there on their time off. The beer was good and the food better. It was casual enough for a business meeting and located on a well-traveled street where she’d feel safe with a virtual stranger.

  Which reminded him. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced,” he said.

  “I’m Lexie Davis.” She extended her hand and he took it.

  “Short for Alexandra?”

  “Alexis. My parents are pretty uptight. I changed it as soon as I was old enough to speak.”

  He laughed, enjoying the feel of her palm against his. Soft and feminine, her hand was small, yet he had no doubt this woman could stand up for herself. He liked her spunk and determination.

  “And you’re the infamous Sam Cooper,” she said as she released her grasp.

  He glanced at her curiously.

  “The current Bachelor needs no introduction.” She wrinkled her nose, dismissing his current status.

  “So you’re really not into the whole Bachelor Blog thing?” he asked, intrigued.

  She shook her head. “No self-respecting woman would chase after a man just because he’s single and in possession of a ring…” Her voice trailed off and she grinned, obviously catching her description of herself.

  He laughed. “Relax, Lexie. We’ve already established you’re not interested in me,” he said, his voice gruffe
r than he’d intended.

  “Says who?” She took back the photo and stuffed it into her bag. “See you at eight.” With a brief wave, she turned and strode down the alley, giving him a chance to check out the rest of her lovely assets, encased in white jeans and a loose tank top as she walked away.

  LEXIE RUSHED BACK to her grandmother’s apartment on the West Side and hurried to shower and change for her meeting with Sam Cooper.

  “Sam Cooper.” She let the name roll off her tongue, smooth and easy, like Kahlua and cream, her favorite drink.

  She put her key in the door and entered the apartment. As usual, the smell of violets, her grandmother’s fragrance of choice, assaulted her senses.

  “Grandma? Are you home?” Lexie called out.

  No answer. She figured Charlotte was down the hall at Sylvia’s and headed for her bedroom, turning on lights as she walked through the apartment. Her grandmother preferred the dark, drawing closed the heavy draperies covering the old windows. Lexie flipped on a couple of lamps.

  In her room, she ransacked her closet, looking for something appropriate to wear for a business meeting that wasn’t a date, but was still with a man she wanted to impress. She wasn’t someone who accumulated a lot of stuff, so the items she owned were those she truly loved and needed. She’d never had to perfect the art of traveling light. It just came naturally to her. Making a fast perusal of her closet she chose a lightweight sundress and a pair of flowered thong sandals.

  Half an hour later, she’d showered, put on a touch of makeup and blow-dried her recently cut hair. She added a thin orange headband that matched her dress, spritzed her favorite perfume and was ready to go.

  Only the light butterflies in her stomach indicated that this evening suddenly meant more to her than a transaction in which she hoped to buy a ring.

  When she’d gone to meet Sam earlier, she hadn’t known what to expect. Sure he’d been good looking on the news, but he’d also been shy about accepting a reward and a little gruff with the TV reporter. She hadn’t been prepared for his impact in person. Once he’d gotten past his wariness of her, he’d been downright charming.

  And he’d called her beautiful. Heat rose to her cheeks at the memory. Then there’d been his touch. His hands weren’t roughened from hard work, nor were they soft and manicured. In fact, his fingers felt just right as they’d wrapped around her hand and the jolt of awareness sizzled straight through to her toes, and other body parts she’d be better off not concentrating on too closely right now.

  She hadn’t heard any noise from the rest of the apartment and assumed her grandmother hadn’t yet come home. Apparently, she was going to get lucky and slip out without having to answer any questions about where she was going. She wanted to surprise her grandmother with the jewelry at the party and the fewer opportunities her grandmother had to be nosy, the better.

  She’d just leave the older a woman a note so she wouldn’t worry. Lexie picked up her purse, double-checked that she had the photo of her grandmother with the restaurant name and address on the back and headed into the tiny hallway and through the den area leading to the door.

  A catcall stopped her in her tracks and Lexie whirled around to see her grandmother sitting in the large club chair in the corner of the room.

  “Where are you going dressed so pretty?” Charlotte asked.

  “You scared me! I didn’t know you’d come home.” Lexie put her hand to her chest, covering her galloping heart.

  Her grandmother placed her knitting on her lap. “I called out. You must not have heard me.”

  Lexie nodded. “Okay, well, I’ll be home later. Don’t wait up.”

  She took a step toward the door, only to have her grandmother say, “You didn’t answer my question.”

  And she’d been so close to escaping, Lexie thought. “What question was that?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me. Do you have a hot date?” Charlotte asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

  Her grandmother would like nothing better than to see Lexie settled with a man, so there would be someone to look after her once Charlotte was gone. The ultimate in hypocrisy from a woman who, though she’d married, had also claimed to have been more like the independent, well-lived Rizzo in Grease than the demure and innocent Sandy. Minus the promiscuity. Lexie hoped.

  She’d always idolized her grandmother and never took her push toward matrimony too seriously. She also knew better than to give Charlotte any real opening into her personal life.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s a work meeting, Grandma.”

  Charlotte raised a penciled eyebrow in disbelief. “Oh come on now. Don’t kid a kidder. You are dressed too prettily for a client. So? Do I know him? Where is he taking you? Is this the first time you’re going out with him? And is he a nice young man?”

  Lexie let out a dramatic sigh, discouraged but not defeated. “Believe what you want, Grandma,” she said, even as she couldn’t help but laugh at Charlotte’s enthusiastic rendition of twenty questions. “No, you don’t know this client, we’re going to a place called Jack’s Bar and Grill, yes, it’s our first time meeting, and of course he’s a nice young man. I wouldn’t agree to meet with any client otherwise.”

  “I’m not buying it.”

  Lexie glanced at her watch. “Well, that’s up to you. I have to go or I’ll be late.” She blew her grandmother a kiss. “Love you.”

  Charlotte smiled. “Have fun! And remember, do everything I’d do…and more!”

  Lexie rolled her eyes and headed out the door for the date that wasn’t a date but a business meeting—with the sexiest man she’d met in quite a while.

  COOP’S CELL PHONE RANG before he reached the door of Jack’s Bar and Grill. Since he was early to meet with Lexie, he paused to take the call outside where it would be quieter.

  “Coop here,” he said.

  “This is Ricky Burnett. I own the Vintage Jewelers. I hear you saved my daughter and granddaughter’s life.”

  Coop wasn’t sure he’d go that far. “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time, Mr. Burnett.”

  “Well thank you. I’m grateful,” the man said in a gruff voice.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “But I need the ring back.”

  The abrupt declaration took Coop off guard and at the mention of the ring, his instincts went on high alert.

  “Dad!” Coop recognized the daughter’s voice in the background.

  “Hang on a minute,” Ricky said.

  Coop kept the phone pushed against his ear, trying to hear what was being discussed on the other end. Considering that father and daughter were arguing, he didn’t have any trouble eavesdropping.

  “The nerve of you!” she scolded her father. “I told you that man saved our lives.”

  “And I’m grateful, but you had no right giving him something from my private box of stuff!” Ricky said.

  “You’re a pack rat, Dad. There’d be more stuff in the drawer than in the store if it was up to you. It’s a good thing I clean up once in a while! At least I make us a profit.”

  “You’ve sold other things of mine?” Sounding outraged, Ricky raised his voice.

  “It’s not like you’ve ever noticed! Classic hoarding, I saw it on Oprah. Now tell Mr. Cooper you’re sorry and let him keep his ring in peace.”

  “You still there?” Ricky asked.

  “I am.” Coop wasn’t sure whether he was more amused or intrigued by Ricky Burnett.

  “Look, I’ll give you another reward if I can just have my ring back,” Ricky said, clearly ignoring his daughter.

  So the ring meant something to the man. Did he know it was stolen? Had he played a role in the theft? Or was he just a hoarder, as his daughter said?

  “You’re impossible!” his daughter exclaimed. A loud slamming door sounded in the background.

  Coop winced. “I’d really like to help you, Mr. Burnett, but I can’t.”

  “Hey!”

  “I’m sorry, b
ut I’ve got to run.” Coop disconnected, then patted the pocket where he’d placed the ring.

  Sure he felt guilty about not returning it. Hell, he hadn’t wanted to accept a reward in the first place. But armed with new information, Coop couldn’t just turn it over to Ricky Burnett. Who knew if Ricky was the rightful owner? And Lexie Davis also had an interest in that particular piece of jewelry.

  There was obviously much more to this ring, and Coop’s reporter’s curiosity pulled at him, while the story tugged at the fiction writer inside him. Until he unraveled the mystery behind the theft, the ring stayed put.

  CHAPTER THREE

  LIKE ITS OWNER, Jack’s Bar and Grill was vibrant and full of life. When Coop’s mother died from a sudden brain aneurysm, not long after his father’s retirement, Jack Cooper needed a substitute for the company and companionship his wife had provided. He’d found it in this bar and with his fellow cops who hung out here.

  Coop walked into the place he considered his second home and was greeted by clapping and laughter, reminiscent of the newsroom immediately after the foiled robbery.

  His brother, Matt, called out. “All hail the conquering hero!”

  “Shut up,” Coop said to his older sibling.

  “Would you rather I said next time leave the crime fighting to us?” Matt asked, chuckling.

  Not particularly, Coop thought.

  “Dad, get the hero a beer.”

  Coop shook his head. He should have known that picking Jack’s as the place to meet Lexie was a mistake.

  “Ignore your brother and come take a load off,” his father said. “He’s just jealous the paper didn’t pick him for the Bachelor Blog.” Jack slid a foaming glass across the bar.

  “You read that crap?” Coop asked.

  “On the way to the sports section,” his father muttered without meeting Coop’s gaze.